A Shot Of Henny For Marriage

Going into the homie's Felix birthday party on Saturday I didn't expect to get some good advice. I expected to do some Henny (only for the bday boy). As I went for a cigarette break (again only socially) with Felix and an older gent (pause) we started talking about marriage.

The old fella dropped a crazy gem. This is what he roughly said: "As the man you don't have to wear the pants nor does she have to. It's about compromise; share the pants. Also, try to avoid heavy arguments and above all keep your wife laughing. I always kept her laughing. My wife died last year after 40 years of marriage. It took her to pass away for me to realize how much I loved her. I try to make it to the cemetery every day but I can't." Whoa. We then went inside to do three shots of Henny. That one was for marriage. OK, no more mushy posts for awhile.

Uno,

Jesus

“Fuck you, you fuckin’ GPS!”

This past weekend I celebrated the cuzzo’s (Teji) birthday. The night started off in LES, then at Columbus Circle then back to LES. Initially it seemed like it was going to one of the rare misses I have with my friends. Thankfully lots of liquor and early ‘90s hip-hop saved the night. Not that I got drunk or even buzzed but I find it more entertaining when others down a shot or 30. Case in point—Yoli! The homegirl can hold her liquor! One of the delights of seeing an inebriated Yoli is the amount of expletives this girl can say in a sentence. Remember how Jay-Z used to rap when he rolled with Original Flavor…well double that.

We’re on the ride back to Queens dropping off the peeps. First up Carl, who lives in some part of the Q, which Yoli refers to as “Where the fuck do you live, man?” She then starts to cuss out the GPS. “Fuck you, you fuckin GPS. They should fuck you in the ass you fuckin GPS!” OMG. It was gold I tell ya. She excuses herself for “sounding like an immigrant” when she stumbles on some words and starts singing a racy version of ABBA’s “Dancing Queen.” So this post is dedicated to our homegirl Yoli. You’re a riot!

Uno,

Jesus

A Hip-Hop Love Story

This is a post about love. The wife and I made it pass the first year of marriage. It’s crazy how the older you get the faster those minutes tick. June 30^th marks my first year as a married man so I find it fitting to tell y’all (most of you already know) how I met her. Like a lot of things in my life it’s straight hip-hop; sorta like Brown Sugar but without the fancy ass looking XXL office. Harris is straight gully. Ask anyone.

I digress. It was February 2004 and I was about to become Scratch Magazine’s founding associate editor. I was working on a feature on DJ Enuff and was hanging with him for the day. We met up at Hot 97, where I waited in the lobby. There I met Yva. She had a baseball cap on (she doesn’t wear them often) and studying hip-hop. WTF? She was there to become Angie Martinez’s apprentice. But my only question is who studies hip-hop? You either live it or you don’t. In either case, we exchanged info but I didn’t flirt because I was involved, etc. Fast forward to August 2004, I was chilling at a Scratch-sponsored Roots concert with my peeps Carl, Bain, Angel, and Omar. As I was getting buzzed some chick comes up to me and says, “Are you Jesus? Jesus Trivino?” I say, “Yes. Can you step into the light?” Yes, I said that. I wanted to see what I was dealing with and luckily enough I was dealing with some goodness. We again exchanged info and I took her to Asia de Cuba (thanks for the recommendation Tony G.) for our first date, movies the second and then she was off on vacay to Venezuela. What?! Yes, our chemistry was crazy and then she bounces. But we were both extremely hooked. She was gone for two weeks but every night she was in S.A. I bought a phone card and spent two, three hours on the phone with her. We pretty much fell in love over the phone. It sounds like a nice telenovela without the drama and light skinned Latins. So this post is for the belief in love, actual love and of course my Bonita Applebum . . . thanks for putting me on. Happy anniversary, te amo.

Uno,

Jesus

If I Was Wearing My Khufi . . .

I was a lot more suspect (read racist) of WP back in college. It must’ve been the khufi I rocked or the tons of underground rap music I consumed. But once I graduated and got a job I let go of most of my angry minority tendencies. How else can you advance in this world? Not everyone is out to get you. One of those tendencies was assuming most WP were racist. Two situations arose this week that made me wanna pull out my khufi again.

The first was at the gym with Carl (pause just in case). A WP was on the cross trainer he signed up for; dude was extremely dismissive of him and the rules. He was probably thinking I’m on this now and you will get on when I’m done . . . negro. The second happened today while I was in line getting some pacifiers for my one-year-old niece (Maddy the Bully). This white chick is behind me and says, “Excuse me.” I move she gets a Snapple. I’m about to pay for the pacifier as she says, “Excuse me again.” I move no prob; didn’t think anything of it. She starts putting her items on the counter. She again says, “Excuse me!” I turn around to say, “I already moved.” She says, “I said it once; learn it!” WTF. I say, “Be easy! This line is everyone not just you your highness.” The cashier and her co-worker starting murmuring, “Snuff that bitch.” Of course, I’m not going to snuff a woman but if I was rocking a khufi and 22 I would have said, “Fuck is your problem, [insert Too $hort’s favorite word]!” Was this two instances of WP getting on some ‘white privilege’ ish or was it just two cases of assholes? What do you think?

Uno,

Jesus

My Niece Eats Ice Cubes

When I head over to BK my older sister, Narcisa, sometimes drives me to the F train. She’s usually accompanied by her hubby, Willie and my H.N.I.C. (Head Niece In Charge), Alyssa. In the 10-minute ride to the F train, Aly and I catch up; well she takes the lead I just listen. The precocious 7-year-old tells me about her school friends, her Dora video game and anything else these young’uns are into these days.

Last week my sister for the first time ever lost her blanquita mom tactics (time out?) and gave her a spanking. I asked Aly in the car, “I heard you got spanked.” She said, “Yes, I did.” “What happened?,” I asked. “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” she said. Yesterday, she begins to tell me, “I ate ice cubes yesterday, then I drank some ice water and then some more ice cubes.” Fascinating! Her mom turns around and says, “Why does Aly always tell Jesus stories he doesn’t want to hear?” When the fact is that I love those stories. When she’s 16 and thinks I’m not cool anymore I’d love to hear a story about ice cubes rather than some punk she’s dating. Plus, if I’m lucky I get to see Aly once a week now so she can eat all the ice cubes she wants. Is there anyone you would like to see more often?

Uno,

Jesus

The S-Word

While most minorities are elated that Barack is officially the Democratic nominee, this weekend proved to me that we still have a long way to go as far as race issues. Friday night the wife and I went to see Patriotic Bitch, the one-woman show by Allana Ubach. You've seen her before in flicks like Meet the Fockers, Legally Blonde, etc. She isn't the most Latina-looking of the bunch but the half-bori/half-mejicana definitely reps to the fullest. The show revolved around Yolanda, an immigrant who lost her sister to the American fast life of flash, money and drugs. Throughout the play her impersonations of different ethnic women was superb. Towards the end of the play her Jewish character blurts out "spic" in reference to Yolanda. I haven't heard the word said so viciously since I first heard it in 1993.

Then on Saturday, taking the train from BK, an old black man sits next to me. He starts yelling about how women want to get some d**k, fat women who wear wigs and how all women, even your momma, get old. OK, I act like the NYer that I am and ignore him. Then he says, "You know what's wrong with Puerto Ricans and spics..." For the sake of my well-being I got up and sat next to a little Asian lady. I K.I.M.ed (kept it moving) because he was probably crazy and I also remembered that according to the book of Chris Rock old black men are the most racist people. But hearing "spic" on back-to-back nights was too much. Hey CR, old Latino men are right behind them, pause.

PS: If you're Latino you need to go see Patriotic Bitch.

Uno,

Jesus

You're Doing A Shot With Me!

The wife she’s pretty good to me. She threw a nice lil’ soiree for my bday this past Saturday at the Dream Hotel. She decided to do a game night, which is what adults do according to our friend Adri. The night started out with Omar dropping by at 8:45PM, the party started at 9PM. He then proceeded to drop more N-words than any gangsta rapper; I love you for being you O, pause. Then some more people dropped by and started playing Buzz, a trivia game for the PS3. At this point we had about 14 peeps. Then around 11:30PM those 14 left and like 40 people came in. Suite was packed…drinks were being downed and sweat was trickling down everyone’s ass cheeks.

Once karaoke starts, we get a knock at the door. It’s this obnoxious, long-haired douche and the security manager telling me that I’m only allowed four people per room. Turns out the douche was the manager of the bar atop Dream and had nothing to due with the hotel. He claimed that my guests were sneaking into his bar. WTF? The party continued but some peeps bounced due to the mini-drama and my sisters got all motherly on me. It’s now around 1AM and there’s only 12 people left from the 40. At this point HDilla says, “Yo, are you even drunk?” I said, “No, good sir!” I then proceeded to down shots of Tequila, Vodka, Rum and the rest is kinda blurry. I must say I thoroughly enjoy getting others drunk; my pops used to do it and I’m keeping the tradition alive. I remember dropping the N-word, must’ve been from talking to O, telling my wife’s co-worker, Augenie, that since her name is Frias she should fry that shit, made Felix (my sis-in-law beau) blush due to my gay comments MAJOR PAUSE, fell on my ass twice (I have the black and blues to prove it), sweating uncontrollably and hurled chunks in the bathroom sink and trash can. And that my friends, is why I drink cranberry and seltzer at industry events.

PS: Sam Ed you’re a beast with the liquor.

Shout out to everyone who made it out: Jay, Chris, Scott, Kim, Nav, Lizz, Teji, Yoli, Naña, Mark, M. Ceezy, Bain, Hyun, Yan, Joel, J-Rod and everyone else!

Uno,

Jesús